Light My Candle
by anaeifly
Summary: Rent's 'Light My Candle', ST:09 style! Kirk is Mimi, McCoy is Roger. Mostly just for fun. Oneshot. T for suggestive comments and mentions of drug use.


**A/N: Hello there! Before I start, just for the record, I have ****_no_**** idea where this came from (besides my head, I mean). Seriously. That said, it was originally going to be Kirk/Spock, but the lyrics didn't really make sense that way, so I changed it to Kirk/Bones. This is Academy days, before they were roommates. Bones is Roger, Kirk is Mimi—if you've ever seen the musical/movie "Rent", you know what I mean. If not, well…enjoy the ride anyway. Also, I had to modify the lyrics very slightly—sorry about that, Jonathan Larson!**

**Disclaimer: I, most unfortunately, do not own Star Trek or Rent or any of their characters. They belong to Gene Roddenberry and Jonathan Larson, respectively, to whom this crazy little story is dedicated. ~rose**

**p.s. Sorry, I forget to mention this above—they aren't actually singing to each other. Also, sorry if some of the lyrics don't fit their situation exactly, I didn't want to change them too much. And, by the way, if any of you think this should be labeled as a crossover, just let me know and I'll change it.**

Leonard McCoy couldn't help jumping slightly at the sound of a knock on his door. He wasn't really used to visitors and besides, who _wouldn't_ be a little jumpy with the lights out like this? It'd been years since there had been a power outage caused by a thunderstorm.

He got up and went to the door, sighing slightly, but his sigh quickly turned to a gasp of surprise when he saw the person on the other side of the door. He wasn't generally attracted to men, but _damn_, this guy was hot. Couple of years younger than him, curly dark blonde hair, eyes like the sky…shit.

The guy grinned. "Got a light?" he asked, holding out the stubby candle in his hands.

Leonard pulled the box of matches he'd replicated earlier out of his pocket to light the candle, glad to have something to distract him. As he lit it, he glanced up at the younger man. "I know you," he said, studying his face, trying to remember where he'd seen him before. "You're…" He broke off abruptly. "You're shivering," he said, his eyes narrowing slightly in concern. The blonde smiled at him in a somewhat sheepish way as Leonard pulled him inside and grabbed a sweater from his chair, draping it over the other's shoulders.

"It's nothing, the storm turned off my heat," he said, not letting go of Leonard's eyes. "I'm just little weak on my feet. Would you light my candle?" he added, holding it out again.

Leonard blushed slightly. How could he have forgotten that? He reached out and lit it, unable to stop his eyes from lingering on the cadet's face. The blonde studied him for a moment. "What are you staring at?"

"Nothing," he said quickly. And then, without thinking, "Your hair in the moonlight." He mentally smacked himself. He had _not_ just said that.

"You look familiar," he explained, grimacing slightly. The blonde nodded slowly, smiling, and walked absentmindedly towards the window, and Leonard couldn't help noticing him stumble a little. "Can you make it?"

The guy looked back at him and grinned in an almost seductive way. "Just haven't eaten much today…studying, ya know. At least the room's stopped spinning. Anyway…" he trailed off, watching the storm out the window, and for some reason Leonard couldn't take his eyes away. The blonde turned back to him again as if sensing his look, that slow smile spreading across his face again, and Leonard blushed. "What?"

"Nothing. Your smile reminded me of…" He cut himself off this time. He'd come here to get away from Jocelyn, not think about her nonstop.

The blonde laughed. "I always remind people of…" he said, eyes dancing. "Who is she?"

"We divorced. Her name was Jocelyn." Leonard turned away from the cadet. He didn't want to talk about Jocelyn or even think about her, not while _he _was here. He pretended not to notice the cadet discreetly blow out the candle, laughing internally.

"It blew out again," the blonde said, forcing Leonard's attention back to him (as if it _needed_ to be forced). "Sorry 'bout your friend. Would you light my candle?"

Leonard raised an eyebrow, amused. This kid must be either high or drunk off his ass to even consider that a man might be friends with his ex-wife. He leaned forward and lit the candle again.

The two of them stood there for a moment, staring at each other. "Well…" Leonard started, not sure what he meant to say, but wanting to say something so that the cadet wouldn't leave.

The other nodded, seeming to understand. "Yeah," he said, smiling in a tired way. "Ow!" he said suddenly, jerking his hand away from the candle.

"Oh—the wax," Leonard said a little dazedly, pulling his eyes away from the blonde's and looking down. "It's—"

"—dripping," the other said seductively, pulling Leonard's hand toward his groin. "I like it between my—"

Leonard jumped. "F-fingers," he stuttered, and quickly tried to get some measure of control. "I figured—oh well. Good night."

The kid grinned and turned, dropping the sweater on a chair, only to stop suddenly and turn back around, looking confused. The candle wasn't lit anymore.

Leonard raised an eyebrow. "It blew out again?"

The other frowned, shaking his head. "No—I think I dropped my stash."

He tried to ignore that—he'd have to report the guy if he found out he had drugs and, to be honest, he really didn't want to. He settled for changing the subject. "I know I've seen you out and about, when I used to go out." He paused. "Your candle's out."

The cadet let out a frustrated sigh. "I'm illin', I had it when I walked through the door…is it on the floor?"

Leonard frowned. "The floor?" he repeated incredulously. He was starting to think the kid was just looking for an excuse to stay now. Before he could say anything else, the blonde got on his hands and knees on the floor, his ass quite visible, and for a moment, all Leonard could do was stare.

"They say I have the best ass below 14th street. Is it true?"

Leonard shook his slightly to clear it, jarred back to reality by the sound of the cadet's voice. "What?"

"You're staring again." The other's smile was knowing and seductive, and Leonard found himself blushing and stammering again.

"Oh no! I mean, you do—have a nice—" God, this was coming out entirely wrong. "I mean—you look familiar," he finished somewhat lamely. He'd been trying to change the subject again and, well, that was what came out. He wasn't immune to beauty. So sue him.

"Like your ex?" The question itself was innocent enough, but Leonard could practically _hear _the guy's eye-roll as he spoke. He ignored that.

"Only when you smile," he replied evenly. "But I'm _sure_ I've seen you somewhere else."

The other spared him a quick glance, still looking around for his stash. "Do you go the Catscratch Club? That's where I work, I dance."

Leonard stared at the blonde for another moment before the recognition. "Yes!" he said, laughing. "They used to tie you up."

The guy pointedly avoided his gaze. "It's a living."

Leonard smirked, unable to help teasing a little. "I didn't recognize you without the handcuffs."

The blonde rolled his eyes but otherwise ignored him. "We could light the candle," he suggested. Leonard ignored the hint until the other looked back up at him, his bright blue eyes wide and almost sad-looking. "_Please _light the candle?" he asked, pouting a little. Leonard sighed and lit another match. The other got up and the two of them started walking around the apartment, the blonde still looking as Leonard watched him. Finally he spoke up again.

"Why don't you forget that shit?" he suggested mildly. "You look like you're nineteen."

The blonde threw him an insulted glance. "I'm twenty-two." Then he grinned again. "But I'm old for my age—I'm just born to be bad."

Leonard gave a humorless laugh. "I once was 'born to be to bad'. He threw another look at the blonde. "I used to shiver like that."

The other's smile faded. "I have no heat, I told you."

Leonard let his eyes run over him again. "I used to sweat," he added, holding the other's gaze for a second before turning away again.

The cadet bit his lip. "I…have a cold," he said, but the defiance barely made its way into his words.

He shot him an incredulous glance. "Right," he said sarcastically. He paused for a moment. "I used to be a junkie," he added, then blinked. He wasn't really sure why he'd said that.

The other appeared to have gotten back into his element. He went back over to Leonard and tried to slip his arms around his waist, but Leonard quickly sidestepped him. "But now and then I like to—"

"Uh huh." Leonard's voice was just barely under control, affected as he was by the other's proximity. The other stepped closer again, and he automatically took a step backward, the back of his legs hitting the couch.

"—feel good," he finished, running his hands very lightly over Leonard's chest. A slight tremor ran through him and fortunately, at that moment he noticed something on the floor—a little plastic baggie filled with white powder. Cocaine.

"Oh, here," he said quickly, casually. The guy turned slightly, and he twisted around him and grabbed the bag.

"What's that?" the other demanded immediately.

"Uh…nothing," Leonard replied, practically jumping to the couch and sitting down so the cocaine was underneath him. "Candy bar wrapper," he added without really thinking.

The blonde eyed him suspiciously before coming over and perching lightly on his lap. "We could light the candle." Oh, right, the candle. Leonard wet his fingers and pinched out the flame. The other gave him a mock-offended look. "What'd you do with my candle?"

Leonard raised an eyebrow but didn't answer the question directly. "That was my last match."

The other shrugged. "Our eyes'll adjust. Thank God for the moon," he added, eyeing the skylights on the ceiling where the moonlight streamed in. Leonard followed his gaze.

"Maybe it's not the moon at all," he replied. "I hear Spike Lee's shootin' down the street," he said, referring to a cadet who had taken up filmmaking under the name of a late twentieth-century director.

The guy laughed. "Bah humbug," he teased, running a finger down Leonard's nose. Leonard caught the hand in his own and was immediately surprised by its temperature. "Cold hands."

The blonde smiled. "Yours too," he replied matter-of-factly. He examined Leonard's hand, turning it over in his. "Big, like my father's—or so my mother says." He looked back up at Leonard's face, his smile suddenly radiant. "Do you wanna dance?"

Leonard stared for a moment, taken aback. "With you?" he asked, half anxious and half incredulous.

The blonde gave him a look. "No, with my father," he said sarcastically. He got up, pulling Leonard with him, and they started to dance. Well, sort of. Leonard had never really been much of a dancer, but the blonde was obviously good. "I'm Leonard," he finally offered, staring into the bright blue eyes. He barely noticed when the arms slipped around his waist, but when the blonde pulled the bag out of his back pocket, he mentally cursed himself for not paying more attention. The other smiled triumphantly.

"My friends call me Jim. Jim Kirk," he said. He blew Leonard a kiss and walked away, obviously aware of Leonard's eyes on him.

Leonard stood there for quite a while after the door had shut behind Kirk, trying to decide whether he had just been seduced or insulted. It was a close call.


End file.
